Buried Secrets
by krage
Summary: Jonas centric oneshot. The team go to a planet and find something unexpected that allows a rare glimpse into part of Jonas's past. Contains part of my version of Jonas's past.


"Seriously, another planet covered in sand?" Colonel Jack O'Neill was complaining, his arms waving through the air to accent his disgust. "I'm starting to think they are saving them for us."

Major Samantha Carter offered him a smirk, keeping up with the man's agitated stride. Jonas settled for a nervous smile, not sure of the right response. Having only been on missions for a few months, the youngest member was still finding his role on the team. A role that he hoped when he found it would lead to him being accepted by the colonel.

Teal'c raised an eyebrow at the greying leader. "I do not believe we visit them with any more frequency than other categories of planet O'Neill."

"Sir" Jonas interjected, feeling bad breaking up their conversation. He pointed past the mound of sand that loomed in front of them.

Jack tilted his head, taking a moment to interpret the message. It had taken a short while for them to notice Jonas's observation skills. It had taken longer for them to impress upon Jonas that he needed to tell them what it was that he noticed, that they didn't always notice it too. That was hard for him, he wanted to fit in so badly, but sometimes the information was useful for them to know as well.

Then Jack nodded, signalling Carter and Teal'c to be on guard and waving Jonas to the middle of the group where he could be protected.

A little grudgingly Jonas took his place. He reminded himself that there was no reason to feel bad, after all he was not military and all the other members of the team were much more adept at this than he was. They did not even authorise him to carry a firearm, just an intar or a zat. He had to admit, he prefered it that way. Growing up on a planet of endless wars made the idea of carrying something as lethal as a gun repulsive.

Within a moment he felt grateful for the protection around him. He felt honored that they thought him useful enough to take him with them, given how little they seemed to think of his ability to protect himself.

Before they neared the top of the hill, his ears had told him there was nothing to fear. It was not an army he heard, but the normal everyday sounds of a village.

He scanned the view over Sam's shoulder. It was just how he had pictured it when he had first heard the sounds. A small village of cloth-covered huts and cloth-covered people. The buildings looked quickly put together, perhaps they were a wandering tribe. That would make sense given the desert enviroment they lived in.

Women were chatting together by the huts, children playing around them. To the right of the camp a man was dancing, being watched by a circle of other men.

A second after they breached the hill, all the movement in the village halted, all eyes coming to rest on them.

The formation around Jonas lessened as they walked down the hill, sand doing its best to trip them up. There were no weapons in sight. It did not look like there was any threat here.

Expressions from under the cloth coverings ranged from shock and fear to wonder. They had gone through this before. Some of the people they visited had no idea that there were any other people in existence that looked differently to how they did.

One man tentatively stepped away from the group, approaching them in open mouthed wonder. They looked similar to most of the nomadic tribes they had met on their travels. Skin was weather worn and tanned a dusty shade. Their eyes and hair were dark.

Jonas stepped tentatively up to Jack's side as the man began babbling in a tongue similar to arabic. On habit a friendly smile slipped onto his face as he listened intently, mentally translated.

Something about a circle, about gods. It seemed the man had already guessed at where the strange travellers had come from, though he seemed surprised that it could be true. Jonas opened his mouth to reassure him, mentally picking the right words from the books he had read in Daniel Jackson's office. He hoped his accent wouldn't be too bad, he was better at reading strange languages than speaking them.

Then his mouth shut, the smile slipped from his face. There was something wrong. A noise of some kind.

"Quinn?" Jack was instantly on guard. Looking at the older man Jonas realised that he had assumed naturally it was something the man had told him.

Jonas shook his head. "Its not anything he said. Its-"

Only Jonas realised he didn't know what it was. It was something he had missed. There was something about this village he should have noticed the first moment he heard it, the first moment he saw it.

Concentrating he scanned the village again. "I feel like I missed something sir."

The Colonel was frowning at him, but Jonas didn't have the answer to his unspoken question. He didn't know what that something was.

There was a sound, so slight that he thought he might be imagining it. It was familiar, so familiar. It sent a jolt through his heart, made his throat feel as dry as if he had been eating the sand that surrounded them. It was well packed down here, less loose than on the hillside.

That was it! His eyes darted to where the group of men were standing to the right of the village. To the man who had now stopped dancing. To his sand covered feet.

It looked wrong. The sand packed beneath his feet looked wrong, like it had been disturbed beyond just dancing. That was where the sound was coming from, he was almost sure. Suddenly by the side of the man's foot the ground shifted just a little.

The first indication he had that he was running came after he had thrown his entire body weight at the man, shoving him a good few feet from where he had stood. Already he was crouched carefully, hands digging with manic energy at the freshly packed grains. His breath was coming fast now, in uneven pants.

His hands shook as they dug fervently at the sand, throwing the grains outward away from the hole. Shouts surrounded him, sounding angry. He didn't need to know what they were saying to know that they were angry.

A boot stepped by his side, its owner's shadow covering him. Jonas stopped digging for a fraction of a second to shove at it in frustration. To make it go away. To leave him alone so he could do this.

"Jonas. What?" Sam was by his side now, crouched low and careful. She had to be careful. A bout of nausea rose to the back of his throat as his thoughts flashed to what could happen if she wasn't. As he thought of the feet that had been dancing on this spot a moment ago.

"Jonas?" He flinched away from her hand. Part of him knew she only wished to know what he was doing, what had happened to make him to desperate, but he couldn't find the words to explain it. Ironic given how his existence had come to revolve around words, but his throat had closed up and his brain refused to provide anything but 'dig, for gods sake, dig'.

Then his fingers felt something that was not sand, and he almost sobbed with relief. With careful urgency he closed his palm around it, brought it to the surface.

It was a hand, so small it would barely wrap around one of his fingers. He heard the shock from the figure at his side, then Sam was helping and the baby was in his arms.

It was tiny, pale pink skin tinged with blue. The umbilical cord was still attached, hanging covered in sand from where her belly button would be. She had no cloth to cover her so it was easy to identify her as female.

She wasn't breathing.

Later he would be surprised at how quickly it came back given how long ago it had been since he had held a baby in his arms. Without thinking he laid the body over a leg, supporting it with one hand. With the other he used his fingers to tap hard on the baby's back.

Sam helped, both supporting and patting until finally an indignant scream filled their ears. Only a small amount of wet sand fell onto the ground.

He knew babies instinctively held their breaths under water. He wondered if the same could be said for sand or earth. If it would take a long time to suffocate. How much it would hurt.

Feeling dazed he held the infant close to his chest, careful of her injuries. Who knew how many there were? He thought back to adult feet dancing. To packed earth, no, sand over the small baby. How long had she been there before he reacted? What if he had just stood there? What if he hadn't reacted fast enough?

Smaller hands than his own attempted to move his aside, to take the baby from him. As if in protest the child screamed louder. He tensed his arms, hunching over the fragile figure to protect her. Shaking his head he tried to remember how to breathe.

"Jonas. Jonas. Its OK." Sam was next to him now, holding his head still to look into his eyes with her blue ones. "We're going to head back to the gate. We have to get her some medical attention."

She was trying to take the baby from him again.

"I can take him", Jonas said, his voice sounding a little shrill to his own ears. "I can look after him."

The blonde gave him a long considering look before backing away, and helping him to his feet. The walk back to the gate was too long and too short at the same time. He remembered stumbling, his feet suddenly feeling numb within his boots, like they were foreign floundering things disconnected from the rest of him. Arms held his own either side of him, both male and female voices saying something, but for once he couldn't seem to interpret the words. Then he was up the sandy hill once again, and the colonel stepped away, his feet able to move with a bit more coordination now that he wasn't fighting with gravity.

Then unexpectantly he was already at the gate, the impressive wave of blue shooting from the opening as the event horizon established itself. Sam still had a hand over his arm, with a little more force this time, like he was restraining him in case he stepped forward before the vortex was stable.

Stepping through was more disorienting than he remembered. His feet seemed to complain, forgetting how to walk for the first few steps of the metal ramp, having adjusted to gripping the sand with each step.

The air was suddenly cool, his lungs complaining of the change, forcing him to breathe faster as they adjusted. The baby in his arms didn't seem to like it either, letting out a noise that was more akin to a whimper than a cry.

Jonas walked shakily down the ramp, with the infant cradled protectively within his arms. Sam seemed glued to his right side, and he could sense that O'Neill was close to his left.

Before his feet had found the stone floor of the gate room there were arms again, reaching for the baby. He reacted instinctively, backing away from them until his back hit something solid and warm behind him. Tel'c.

"They do not mean to harm the child Jonas Quinn", the voice was softer than he remembered Teal'c's voice being. It was the tone the large man used when dealing with children or frightened adults.

"No, I", but words seemed to fail him again, fading on his tongue. He didn't know what to say, all he knew was that this room filled with people with guns suddenly seemed much more dangerous than he had ever noticed before, even when he had defected from Langera and those guns were pointed at him.

"He's in shock", came a quiet voice from his left, belonging to the colonel he realised belatedly as the older man placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey Jonas, come on son, look at me".

Jonas blinked, feeling like he had lost some time. The baby was still in his arms, its warm bundle familiar and comforting. Looking up he met the colonel's eyes, and it hit him for the first time what he had been doing; shoving Sam aside while he was digging, acting without telling anyone what he was doing. Not giving enough information was a common criticism that the Colonel had for him. He hoped that he hadn't messed up too badly.

"There we are", O'Neill smiled down at him. "Now come on, you've got to help me with this buddy. We're taking the baby to the infirmary remember?"

He didn't, but somehow they had moved across the gate room, heading in that direction anyway.

"Yes Sir", Jonas nodded, taking on his mission. They moved fast, as near to a run as he could manage without moving the infant too much. By the time they arrived at the familiar room with beds lined on each sides, most of his senses seemed to have returned, but that didn't stop him wondering what to do next.

They answered his question for him, both O'Neill and Doctor Fraiser leading him to one of the more private rooms at the back. Inside there was a bed already set up, but as they hurried inside, another bed was wheeled through the door to sit next to the first.

"Here Jonas, sit down", Doctor Fraiser, pushed him toward the first bed. He sat, following her orders was almost as ingrained as following the Colonel's. Almost companionable, the Colonel seated himself further down on the same bed.

O'Neill leaned toward him, a hand back on his shoulder. It felt like a warm gesture, almost friendly.

"Hey Jonas, that's a cute baby you found there", the Colonel leaned over to look at the infant, using his other hand to stroke her little bald head with a finger.

For an instant Jonas tensed, but then he let him do it. He remembered that Sam had said the Colonel used to have a son of his own. He probably had more experience around babies than he did, and to be honest if he didn't trust the Colonel to be safe with her, then who did he trust?

"How about we let Doc Fraiser have a look at her?" O'Neill said, his tone unusually soft. Jonas didn't say anything, couldn't find the words, but despite tensing his arms slightly he allowed the older man to transfer the baby over to the other bed.

O'Neill held the baby securely to his chest in a manner that suggested he had held many infants before this one. Then the infant was on the other bed, and the doctor was absorbed in examining her, a nurse helping hook the tiny baby up to the machines that had been gathered in the room.

The familiar weight gone, Jonas felt empty. He only noticed that his hands had curled into fists when the Colonel placed a hand on his arm.

Swallowing Jonas forced himself to focus and return from whatever clouded place his mind had been in. It was difficult, like clambering through a thick smoke.

"Is she OK?" The question sounded too small and weak to be his own. "Is she OK?" He repeated again, trying to put some stability back into his tone.

The hand around his arm gave a squeeze. "Doc's working on it", O'Neill said.

Within minutes the baby was attached to too many large machines and wires, they dwarfed the already tiny figure, making her look even more fragile. An incubator was wheeled into the room and with careful precision the infant was transferred inside it.

It was terrifying how small she seemed right now, but the Doctor seemed satisfied, stepping away from the plastic container toward him.

"And how are you doing Jonas?" Doctor Fraiser asked, looking him directly in the eyes.

Jonas blinked, not sure how his health had come into this conversation. Then again, thinking back on it he had been acting a little odd. Heat flooded to his face as he realised just how odd, he had refused to give anyone the infant, even the medical team. It had seemed important at the time, but now without the infant in his arms it seemed a little more crazy.

"I'm fine Doctor Fraiser", Jonas said, attempting to smile at her, but the attempt felt crooked. Her penlight was out, nearly blinding him as she shone it in each eye. "I just. A little woozy I guess. Is the baby alright?"

"We've done what we can so far", Janet said, while taking his pulse. "Her basic reflexes are intact which is a good sign, but its difficult to say how much brain damage has been done from the lack of oxygen. She has some mild internal bleeding which we are monitoring, and five broken bones, including two ribs. All in all she is extremely lucky to have survived so far."

O'Neill chose this moment to clap him on the shoulder. "You did a good job Jonas."

Jonas knew that he should be beaming right now. He had just received praise from Colonel O'Neill himself, something he had been craving ever since he had arrived here. Yet all he felt was a certain empty feeling. He was intuitive enough to know what that 'so far' meant.

Doctor Fraiser confirmed it with her next words. "Jonas I don't want you to get your hopes up. You've given her a chance by finding her, but she's been through a lot. Its going to be up to her now if she makes it."

"He- she's going to make it", Jonas said, looking at the baby. She was still now, looking like she was sleeping. It was only one of the machines, a heart monitor that told him she was alive. "I got her out in time."

Doctor Fraiser pursed her lips together in the way she did when someone said something that she didn't agree with. Jonas chose to ignore this sign, after all it didn't matter what anyone believed, it was what would happen that would matter. She had been wrong before, so this time she could be wrong again. The baby would live. She had to.

"Jonas", the Colonel tried. "Doc is just trying to get you prepared in case she doesn't -"

"I know!" He cut him off, something akin to anger bubbling to the surface. The feeling had been with him ever since the dancing man and the strange sound had connected themselves, even before that. "But this time she is wrong! He's going to make it!"

Immediately shame washed over him as he realised who he was talking to, and what he had said. He looked over to the Colonel who was still sitting next to him, looking down at him with sharp brown eyes.

"I'm really sorry sir", Jonas said quickly, heart thumping in his chest. He couldn't believe he had snapped like that, at his commanding officer! He never snapped. "And Doctor Fraiser. I don't know what came over me."

Doctor Fraiser seemed to accept the apology straight away, saying something about him still being in shock, and mood swings being a common symptom. The colonel was still looking down at him with that hard stare, it was starting to make him feel very uncomfortable.

O'Neill stood up, looking more imposing with the gain in height. "Who's he?"

"What do you mean sir?" Jonas asked, confused.

"Offworld you referred to the baby as 'he'", the older man said. "Just now you did the same thing."

Jonas blinked. He hadn't noticed the slip. "Sorry sir, I meant 'she'."

Colonel O'Neill stared at him for a few more seconds, as if trying to read his mind. Then with an unconvinced look he stepped away, moving in a casual manner to peer through the plastic incubator that held the small infant Jonas had dug from her own grave.

"Hammond gave us some personal time", the older man said, looking at the still infant with sad eyes. "I suggest you don't spend all of it in here."

Six hours later and Jonas was still there, sitting on the edge of the bed watching the baby, who was now hooked up to even more machinery. Nurses regually moved in and out of the room, and he tried to smile at them as he normally did, but it was a little more difficult this time. Thankfully they didn't seem to hold it against him, and answered his polite questions about their welfare and families, seeming as friendly as they usually did, which for one or two wasn't very friendly. The main difference he noticed was that they were more accomindating than they usually were, flooding him with drinks and food.

Doctor Fraiser seemed to be the one who had the most reservations about his continued presence here. Every time she entered the room she would shoot him worried glances when she thought he wasn't looking. It was a little odd since she had been the one who wanted to keep him in the infirmary for at least a twelve hour hold.

"Hey".

Jonas didn't flinch as the small figure placed herself down on the bed next to him. He had already noticed when she had entered the room. Glancing to his right he saw what his ears had already told him, Teal'c had followed her into the room.

The large man pulled up a chair, placing it where he had a good view of the incubator. Before sitting down, he gave Jonas a solum nod, in return Jonas attempted a smile.

"They assigned the planet to another team", Sam said by his side. "We won't have to go back there."

"Oh", Jonas said, really not sure what to say to that. It was good he supposed. He didn't want to know what he would do if he met those people again. "Will she have to go back there?"

Silence followed his question.

"Has Doctor Fraiser not informed you of the infant's condition Jonas Quinn?" Teal'c turned around in his chair to meet his gaze.

She had. The words stayed stuck in his skull, as had so many before them, a curse of his exceptional memory. 'Doesn't look good', 'prepare yourself', and the worst 'only a matter of time'. The further tests she had carried out for the baby's brain function hadn't returned with positive results.

He shook his head. "I know she doesn't believe it, but the baby is going to make it Teal'c."

Teal'c's expression was impassive, impossible to read even for someone as perceptive as himself. "Your optimism is an admirable quality Jonas Quinn, but I fear Doctor Fraiser's judgement is correct."

Sam wrapped both of her hands around his own, distracting him from further argument. "Whatever happens one of us will be here." She said firmly, looking up at him with her mouth set in a determined line. It was just the kind of support he needed right now. Even if they were not waiting for the same outcome, at least she cared enough to stay.

An hour later and the baby was doing better, she squinted blearily at the world around her, like she had just woken up. She didn't move much, but when Jonas put a hand through the gloves that were fixed into each side of the incubator she gripped his finger tight. He grinned, his mind travelling back to a time when his then much smaller fingers had been gripped desperately in another infant's grasp.

He looked up to share his grin with others around him, but Fraiser's expression did not change from the somber expression she held.

"Jonas, we've cleaned out her lungs and we're giving her oxygen, but there seems to have been a lot of brain damage."

He shook his head, feeling bad for being so obstinate with Doctor Fraiser, but he couldn't accept what she was saying. "She's doing better."

"Sweetheart", Fraiser held the clipboard in both hands in front of her as if shielding herself from his reaction. "Its not uncommon for there to be some signs of improvement before a patient"

She trailed off, but Jonas could figure out what she was going to say next.

"I am afraid Doctor Fraiser speaks the truth Jonas Quinn", came the deep voice of Teal'c, who had remained mostly silent for their vigil. "Often warriors recovering from battle would seem to improve before they would sucum to their wounds. It was seen as honorable that they fought so long, and a blessing that they died surrounded by the ones who cared for them."

Jonas lifted his finger from the infant's grip and she let out a desperate noise, somewhere between a cry and a gurgle. He quickly placed his hand back now next to her fist and she once again fixed her tiny fingers around one of his own.

"He's going to make it", he said simply.

Three hours later, she died. He had been sleeping so he wouldn't know the exact moment she took her last breath until he asked Doctor Fraiser much later. He woke up to confusion, Doctor Fraiser standing with arms crossed over her chest as she watched her staff take away the equiptment. The heart monitor was disturbingly blank, having already been turned off.

"What?" He said, suddenly completely awake as he took in the confusing scene. Hurriedly he sat up from where he had been curled at the top of his bed. He had just planned to rest his eyes when exhaustion had washed over him. Falling asleep had not been his intention.

A heavy arm was placed on his shoulders, weighing him down. Sometime while he was sleeping Colonel O'Neill seemed to have taken the place of Sam and Teal'c.

"Jonas", the voice was firm next to his ear. "She's gone."

He shook his head, part of him believing him, the other part not willing to accept the words.

"No, no", the figure in the plastic incubator was still again, but this time the chest did not waver with breath, and the fingers were not curled into fists. "I got to him in time. I got him out. I dug him up. He should be..."

But he wasn't, because that wasn't his brother lying in that incubator. He had tried to save a stranger, but he hadn't tried to save his brother. Lying in that incubator was a girl that had never had a chance, maybe because of her gender, maybe her parents decided they already had too many children, maybe for something as trivial as the time of year she was born. His mind knew they were different, but somehow they merged, as if, if he could save this infant, maybe it would take away some of the guilt he had for causing his brother's death.

Jonas somehow found his feet, moving steadily over to the plastic container. O'Neill's hand did not remove itself from his back, shadowing him instead.

Shaking, he placed a hand into the glove, putting a finger into the baby's now open palm. The hand didn't move, making no attempt to wrap around his own. She was gone. His brother was gone. He had failed both of them.

"Jonas", Doctor Fraiser was standing by the incubator now, next to them, as if they three were protecting the infant from the world around her. "Who's he?"

"My brother", his voice shook, still waiting for the baby to realise he was there and take his finger. Part of him knew she never would. "But I didn't dig him out."

He felt the colonel increase his grip on his shoulder, and suddenly worried that he would think badly of him for that. "He was sick. We had been in the camps for a while, me, him and my sister, after our family was killed. He was still on milk, so it was difficult to get enough food. We would try and bribe some of the breastfeeding women to feed him by giving them our rations."

He swallowed, wanting to justify what he had done to them, even if he didn't think it was right himself. "One day we were moved to a new camp. It was a long journey and by the end everyone was sick, and some were dead. They had to get rid of the bodies by burying them on the grounds. I tried to tell them that he was still alive, but they didn't listen. I was afraid that they would take my sister to bury too because she was sick, so I couldn't leave her alone. I heard them screaming, everyone else pretended not to hear. Some of them screamed for hours before they died."

Again, O'Neill squeezed his shoulder. "Why were you put in the camps?"

"We didn't fit into the design we were supposed to", Jonas looked at the baby, thinking how she was the same, they hadn't wanted her. "We were in Terrania. My father was Terranian, my mother Kelownian. Since we weren't pure Terranian, when our parents died we were sent to the camps. They were for any impure citizen without a purpose that benefited society. I think they've been phased out now, but that was their purpose back then."

"I didn't know you have a sister", Doctor Fraiser said, now opposite them, her hands placed on top of the incubator. "You didn't tell me that when I filled in your medical history forms."

"I don't", Jonas said, wanting to get off this topic. He knew she was stalling, that soon they would take the baby away as they had the equiptment. "Some Terranian extremists came into our school with guns, and I don't anymore."

"I'm sorry Jonas", Fraiser said, clearly regretting asking the question. The pressure on his shoulder told him O'Neill agreed with her.

"Doctor Keiran once told me that the bad things that happen to us in life have as much control over us as we let them", Jonas said, saying the words as much for himself as everyone else. It wasn't pity that he wanted from them, he just didn't want them to hate him for what he did as much as he had once hated himself. "The best way to fight against them is to make sure you don't give them that control."

"Sounds like a wise man", O'Neill said beside him.

Jonas nodded, the baby still not squeezing his finger. "She's really dead?"

"Yes, Jonas she's dead", Doctor Fraiser said. "There was very little chance that she would pull through. I tried to prepare you for this."

He felt bad for not listening to her, and he felt bad that she had been right. Above all he felt bad that he had not made it in time to save this little girl. "What will happen to her now?"

"Well", Doctor Fraiser said, unclipping the side of the incubator to open the plastic container. "First we'll take her to a cold room. Then we can start making arrangements for a funeral."

Jonas looked down at the tiny figure, reminding himself that here on earth they had coffins. It wouldn't be like he was burying her the same way her family had done.

"Can I bury her with my shirt?" He asked suddenly, not wanting her to be afraid, through he knew that she was past feeling such emotions. "I was holding her in it, and I want her to have something familiar."

"Sure Jonas", Doctor Fraiser said, with something suspiciously liquid glinting in her eyes. "I think we can manage that."

"And do you think I'd be allowed to visit her sometimes?" It was a big request he knew. He still wasn't allowed off the base unaccompanied, and even leaving with company he needed prior permission from the general.

Still something hopeful beat within his chest. He had no idea where his parents and two older brothers were buried, his sister had been cremated hurriedly without time to gather ashes, and his baby brother had along with many of the others been taken by wild animals after a week under the ground. He had no graves to visit, it would be nice to not lose this baby the same way.

"I'll talk to the general", O'Neil said from beside him. "It won't be a problem."

Jonas would have grinned, but as it was he settled for a grim semblance of a smile. While he was sure he would not let this event control him by making him act negatively toward the others (he still needed to apoligise for his behaviour to Sam and Teal'c), he also knew that he would spend many a nightmare digging at sand, hoping to change things.

"I just wish that I had acted quicker", Jonas said as the Doctor picked up the infant, cradling her as if she were still alive to feel it. "She deserved that."

"Hey", O'Neill said, his voice suddenly firm. "You were the only one out of us who noticed she was there. If it wasn't for your crazy observation skills she would have never had the chance that she did. You gave her hours of care and attention that she never would have gotten otherwise. You gave her some hope Jonas, and you can't underestimate the impact of that."

"Thank you Colonel", Jonas said, not knowing what else to say. He was glad that they had managed to give her a chance at least. Everyone deserved to be given a chance.

He turned to Doctor Fraiser who was still holding the infant, looking down at her with watery eyes. "Can I help?" He asked politely.

"Sure Jonas", she said, handing over the infant once again into his arms. Together they put the baby into a cold drawer, labelling her so she wouldn't be forgotten.

Jonas had thought only a moment when the issue of her not having a name came up. "Hope", he said quietly.

Both of the other occupants in the room nodded, before Doctor Fraiser wrote it down. Afterwards O'Neill took over, leading them to what he called 'much needed therapy', which mostly seemed to involve cake.

Note: If anyone wants to beta this then contact me with your email and I can send you the document. Constructive feedback is always good. This was a fun few hours kind of thing, but I'm always looking to improve. My thoughts are Jonas seemed a tad too angsty in this thing, but I'm not sure how to get around that given the subject, I did try and inject his chipper outlook into his processing of it. I'm also thinking I might have done too much telling in places, but maybe that's my view. I'm a bit of a perfectionist so only see flaws, so if anyone can point out good and bad parts so I know what to keep and what to change, that would be ultra useful.


End file.
